


Sing Me A Song

by NegansOtherWife



Series: Sing Me A Song [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Chill Negan, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, References to Depression, Talking, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: You and Negan, one night on guard duty, discuss the merits of a Green Day song and the reasons for existing.





	Sing Me A Song

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm supposed to be writing the sequel for 'To Love A Teacher' but instead, this happened. Should I do another, sometime soon?

Maybe it was your imagination, or the inevitable insanity slowly settling in after living at the Sanctuary for nearly a year, but you swore that the biters seemed to settle when you sang. Their endless moaning seemed to quiet as their soulless bodies listened to your voice. 

Or maybe they were listening to what direction _food_ was coming from. 

Either way, you passed your time on guard duty singing to yourself softly, as the sun had long since retired and the moon came to hang in the sky, settling in for the night shift. 

The night sky was unbelievable, before the fall of an established society you’d barely chanced a look up at the sky. Too concerned with your graduate thesis and graduating from a five-year program, so that you could attend the best law school in New York. 

Marry your college sweetheart.

Yes, indeed. It seemed like back then you were always rushing, so busy with your feet on the ground you’d forgot to appreciate the one thing that was always a constant. Now, it seemed. The moon was all you had. Heavy and dominating in the sky, from the perch above a large piece of the Sanctuary gate, you had a perfect view of the moon. It seemed so prominent— kind of like Negan. Demanding your attention as it provided the only source of light, illuminating the sea of undead before you in a soft glow. 

The stars, well, they were also something that always served to take your breath away and you reveled in the quiet and lack of activity around you. Besides the occasional check-in, you were left alone most nights to be on your own, that’s how you preferred it, spending the days asleep and taking your meals in your room. 

Singing was just something that passed your ten-hour shift as it was something that chased away the boredom and kept you awake. Even letting so much as a squirrel past this part of the gate, would call for you to answer to Lucille.

“Do you know what's worth fighting for? When it's not worth dying for?” The lyrics escape your mouth unwarranted, as you sing to your own beat and the moon. You had long since made the self-discovery that you sang what you were feeling. '21 Guns’ seemed to fit the mood of your thoughts perfectly this past couple of weeks. Often, you’d started to wonder if the killing was _worth_ it. 

“Well, _hell_! I thought I heard someone out here.” The door to the metal balcony you were seated on, opened to reveal a softly grinning Negan. You hadn’t seen much of him since over a year ago, and even now he hadn’t changed. “I love that song,” He smirks and much to your horror, he closes the door behind him and moves forward.

After a moment you allow his words to process, “You know Green Day?”

“Shit, honey! I _lived_ it. How old are you, Y/N.”

Slightly startled by the fact that he remembers your name, you answer. “Twenty-Two.”

“Just what I thought,” He laughs twirling Lucille over his shoulder. “You hipster millennials _really_ thought you owned everything, huh?”

You regard him quietly, even though there are a million biting retorts on the tip of your tongue. Besides, you wonder, it must be past midnight. What could Negan possibly be doing out here?

“Well go on, little bird. Lucille _loves_ to be sung to.” To emphasize his point he places her gingerly in your lap before leaning over the railing to gaze out at the night sky.  “Go on, Lucille get’s impatient,” He urges after a long beat of silence on your part.

 _And so do you_ , you finish silently in your head thinking of how much damage the bat in your hands has done. Too busy with your thought to react fully to the apparent nickname that he’d given you.

“Does, _um_ ,” You clear your throat causing Negan to spare a glance at you. “does Lucille like Green Day?” You squeak.

He snorts after a moment, and it's one full of humor and not his usual condescending tone. “Who doesn’t?” You share a small laugh with him before deciding to finish your song.

“Does the pain weigh out the pride?” Pausing to clear your throat you sing a little louder, feeling quite ridiculous as you gaze down at the bat in your hand. “And you look for a place to hide… did someone break your heart inside? You're in ruins,” You now coo to Lucille, absentmindedly twirling the bat in your hand as you study the bullet hole lodged near the handle.

“Nobody likes you, everyone left you, they're all out without you… having fun,” You decide to tact on one of your favorite lines, and beside you Negan shifts so he’s sitting down beside you, the warmth of his thigh gently penetrating yours.

He doesn’t ask for Lucille back.

“Did you ever lose someone you cared about?” You decide if he’s going to sit here with you on guard duty, you might as well get a good conversation out of it.

He stiffens instantly and you look into his dark eyes, seeing the usual fire beginning to fume, so you quickly retrace your steps obviously broaching a touchy subject.

“I’m sorry,” You immediately try to make up for your misgivings, but he motions for you to go on. Now both pairs of your feet hang over the platform, as the undead moans in resilience trying to reach the perch you both sat upon. “Just… _sorry_ , sir.”

He pauses obviously hearing the resignation and disappointment in your words, and he studies the way you run your hands over Lucille before he speaks. “You know what? _Fuck_ it. Go on, bird. Obviously, you want to get something off your chest, and what kind of leader would I be if I had one of my workers moping around and shit. I’ll tell you— a _shitty_ one. That get’s men killed.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his tone, just barely.

“Well, it’s just that sometimes I don’t see the point of… living.” You chance a glance at Negan to see how he’s taken your confession. It’d been something of an idea bouncing around in your head for awhile, but you didn’t want anyone to think you were suicidal. 

Although, weren’t you… by default?

“How would you do it?” He questions coming to fully regard you, turning his head to meet your eyes. You hate how finally having a direct conversation with your fearless leader consists of you wondering if he’s noticed how chapped your lips are or the stain on your shirt from dinner. You should be pleading your case of why you should be taken off guard duty, and upgraded to Savior status, not fussing over your appearance. 

Seeing that the conversation has gone a completely different way you decide to humor him, after all, you were the one who’d brought up the subject. You open your mouth to continue, but the door handle behind you moves, causing you to stiffen.

“Oh, sorry,” Meredith barely a slip of a girl, and just under sixteen, regards Negan with slight shock before turning to face you tentatively. “I heard you were on guard duty again, Y/N. I thought I’d bring you a midnight snack before I head to bed.”

Your gaze falls upon the baggie of a sandwich and a small bag of chips clutched in her hand, and you thank her, carefully placing Lucille between you and Negan before taking her offering. You’d come to have a soft spot for the girl and often spent your free time with her, if you had a sister, you'd want it to be her.

She turns to go and you watch her hesitate for a moment before her eyes come to rest on Negan. His voice is void of any crude expression and you’re thankful for that because you know Meredith has a heart murmur, he regards her almost tenderly and urges her to speak after noting the expression on her face.

“It’s just that,” She shifts again before eyeing him fully. “Would you like a sandwich? I can make it myself and bring it right back. My dad used to say: a restless mind is the cause of a restless stomach.”

Negan’s expression is almost foreign as he chuckles at the small girl before accepting her offer. “Sure, honey. If it’s as good as that one, I’ll take it.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Negan both munch respectively on your bags of chips as you gaze out into the woods looking for any disturbances.

“She your sister?”

You can’t resist a little snark. “Do we look related?” Although, that isn’t fair, long before the world became unconventional, love was the dominating abnormality. “I met her and her father on the way here. Gavin’s her father,” You inform him, knowing that Gavin has quickly risen in the ranks as a Savior. You can’t contain the small amount of jealousy that leaks into your tone. Negan spares you a look before digging into your bag of chips. 

“She knows I work late a lot, so sometimes she’ll bring me a snack. She doesn’t do it much.” You rush to defend the small girl who works in the kitchen, not knowing where Negan’s train of thought has gone.

“Hush, bird.” He interrupts. “I’m not gonna bash the girl’s head in because she sneaks you a sandwich or two. Hell, I’d be crazy to.” He takes a bite of his sandwich wiping the mayo from his beard, and you have to agree. Meredith does make the best sandwiches. 

“So how would you do it,” He finally says picking the tomato from his sandwich and you take the offer slipping it between your own. 

“I’d shoot myself, in the head.” You say after a beat, now fully relaxed in his presence. “Sometimes I think of _him_ , and I think of who I’ve become, and I wonder… I don't know, maybe if I died I could be with _him_.” You can’t say his name out loud, it’s too soon, even though it's been more than a year.

Swallowing around the lump of food in your mouth you don’t expect much of Negan, the man has an emotional fortress around his heart, but everything about this night is surprising.

“I think you're reading too deep into the song,” He bumps your shoulder with his. “Singing that shit and looking at the dead all night. That _can_ get depressing, just exploring your thoughts all night…” He marvels aloud. 

“Of course I am,” You lightly joke. “But isn’t that the whole reason for music,” You reason.

“Do you think wherever they are, they’re ashamed of us?” Negan’s question is so quiet you almost don’t hear it over the moaning of the dead below. You want to comfort him, but you’re unsure how when you feel the same. You never were one for comfort, rather you thought pain built character. Telling him so, you go a different route.

Pulling the chain from underneath your shirt with a deep breath, you show him the two rings.

“You married, bird?” Shaking your head, you wish so badly that you could say yes.

“No. Almost, you know?” And he nods because he gets it. Whatever it is your trying to assert. “This was my promise ring,” You show him the simple white gold band before showing him your engagement ring. He studies it with a low whistle, bringing it closer to his face to study the row of diamonds.

“I wish he was here _every_ single day, and sometimes I wonder if I’m only alive because of this _idea_ that they’ll be something more.” You pause unsure of why you’re saying this to Negan of all people. “I want to die, but I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, it’s just…” You huff, trying to collect your thoughts as they buzz around your head in a disorderly pattern.

“Bird, believe me. I _know_.” He says taking Lucille into his lap, gripping the handle tightly as he gazes at the moon. The light reflects in his orbs as he licks his lips, lost in thought. “Pain outweighing the pride, and all that shit.” He teases.

“Exactly,” You affirm. 

“Fuck, I _guess—_ the “trick” is finding that person that can give you back that tiny piece of sanity, at least for a little while. Huh, bird?” He gets up collecting his trash as you try to school the disappointment on your face. He’s leaving, although, you knew he’d have to go eventually, everything did. “Someday, little bird. I’ll tell you my story.”

You brighten at the idea, even though it has all the potential to become a forgotten promise.

“Hey, darling?” You turn to address Negan as he regards you from the partially ajar door. “You know Billy Joel?

“Yeah,” Your response is practically breathless, and your heart races already knowing how this conversation will end.

“ _Good_ , next time. That’s more my taste.”

“What about Lucille?” You can’t resist dragging this conversation out… just a little longer.

“Forget about Lucille, this one’s for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you. Yeah, you. 
> 
> You should read my other reader insert fic (if you haven't, no pressure) 'Drinking Buddies.' I hear it's good. okay, mwah x


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